Yesteryear

Fairy Wishes

I would like to be creative, inspired; an imaginative flighty fey
I would like to be verbose, well spoken; a witty silver tongued beast
I would like to astound you with my knowledge, notions and ideas;
an eloquent, well-read owlish fiend.

In my minds eye I see these things, to me they are images and not the words written upon a page. The colours are vibrant, at times whimsical and the lines vary for the lightest of touches to the boldest of strokes. I have trouble conveying what my imagination beholds; I lack the ability to put into words what I see. If I could talk in pictures, doodling the images as they came to mind I believe I could be the eloquent silver-tongued fiend showing you the wonders I perceive.

The fairy sits upon a limb, silver grey against the darkness. Her slight form is lightly hunched, knees drawn up to chin. Her wings unfurled, transparent, catch the moonlight, diamond like jewels. The beast is crouched; powerful shoulders hunched, snow-white fur raised against his back, ice blue intelligent eyes filled with laughter. The tongue, long, is flicked upward, white silver in the dying northern lights. The owl sits upon a bough amongst the thick green foliage, its head is lightly turned surveying the world below it. The knowledge of ages written upon its features, eyes piercing behold the passage of time.

The words seem not to do the images justice, they are flat, stark black against the white, lacking in texture, in form and vividness. Perhaps one day I will learn to draw with words, for now they are fairy wishes.